


You Tell 'Em, Mama Rogers

by Philyra



Series: Get ready for it [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 04:18:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5192057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philyra/pseuds/Philyra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarah Rogers is a legend in the NHL. Mess with the Knights, and you mess with her.</p><p>Or: Sarah Rogers adopts the New York Knights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Tell 'Em, Mama Rogers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kavi Leighanna (kleighanna)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kleighanna/gifts).



"ARE YOU BLIND?" Sarah bellows. "THE PUCK WAS MILES AHEAD OF HIM, YA BLEEDING IDJIT –"

"Mrs. Rogers, please, you know you're not supposed to stand up here!" the usher pleads from his spot in the aisle, more resigned than anything else at this point. He's been working at Madison Square Garden for years and Sarah Rogers is simply something that comes along with the job. "It's a bad example for everyone else!"

She relinquishes her hold on the glass and hops down, as spry as ever. "Of course, Rajah. But you know I'll not stand for any of those ridiculous – STEVEN YOU GURT FOOL, WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT ROUGHING?"

Rajah puts his head in his hands. "Mrs. Rogers, _please_."

But Sarah's already climbed back on top of the ledge and is berating her son for putting the other team on the power play. Because of course Sarah Rogers will sit nowhere else but between the two penalty boxes so that she can let both teams know when they've been stupid. Every year Pepper invites her to sit in the owner's box, and every year she declines.

She's grown to be such a legend that most players in the league consider it a rite of passage to receive a blistering lecture from Sarah Rogers. She's frightened more than a few rookies out of their wits during the pre-season.

"Ma, you saw how they were getting in close to Mike-" Steve has his back to the ice, his arms crossed defensively as he argues back.

"I DON'T _CARE_ , STEVEN, and don't you dare talk back to me. What have I told you about needless penalties? Do it again and I'll make you remove that helmet of yours, see if I won't-"

A roar of laughter goes up around Madison Square Garden. Miles had been quick enough to notice that these things happened without fail whenever Sarah was in attendance, and created a segment called, "YOU TELL 'EM, MAMA ROGERS!" with the stadium camera. Needless to say, the crowd _adores_ them.

The argument escalates into Irish and Rajah's subsequent pleas go unheeded until Bucky makes a beauty of a shorthanded goal. "Always pulling you out of those scrapes, eh Rogers?" he laughs as he skates by the box.

"Fuck you, Buck-ow!"

"Language, Steven!" But Sarah steps back down from the ledge, shaking her hand absent-mindedly because slapping a hockey helmet _hurts_. "Now don't go about making any more mistakes or you can say goodbye to Sunday roast!"

His eyes go wide and wounded. "You wouldn't!"

"Oh, wouldn't I?" she retorts and has the satisfaction of seeing him go pale. "Now go, your penalty is up!" Sure enough, the box proctor is desperately trying to get Steve's attention.

Rajah breathes a sigh of relief. Crisis averted – for now.

* * *

 

Maria looks as though she would rather be anywhere _but_ Las Vegas. Her face takes on a tight, pinched expression from the moment they step off the plane and she looks visibly uncomfortable by the bright lights of the casinos only a stone's throw away from McCarran International.

It could have been worse, Sarah muses. She remembers Steve and Thor's first NHL Awards well. Not one but two crews had trailed them: the Knights' and the NHL's. Since then, Christine was quick to negotiate all access to the team's participants in the awards through Knights TV. At least Maria's become comfortable around that crew, but it's hard not to with Peter and Miles' sarcasm and Ian's good-natured affableness.

It helps that Steve is here fulfilling his captain duties. He's already chatting to the crew, allowing Sarah and Maria to fall behind him. Sarah knows her son well – he's doing his best to attract attention to him rather than Maria. Her son is about as transparent as a sheet of glass when it comes to the league's first female player, and it doesn't help that she's the Knight's newest and most promising rookie.

Steve has talked to her about Maria, of course. He's been admiring about her work ethic and her natural ability. He's ranted over the dinner table about her stubbornness and her inability to both accept and work with the team sometimes. It's his silence, however, that gives her the full measure of her son's feelings about Maria Hill. It's how he trails off in the middle of a sentence, his memory caught on some aspect of her. Or how he stares into space, puzzling over all the things that simultaneously draw and infuriate him.

Sarah has always wondered what kind of woman would eventually capture her son's attention, and she's glad it's someone who does not make it easy for him, who challenges him at every turn. She'd been pleased to have her suspicions confirmed at this year's Mom's Trip.

She is even more pleased that Pepper had the foresight to put the three of them together for this trip. That way, she and Steve can keep an eye on Maria and make sure she doesn't go screaming back to New York. Not that she would do any sort of screaming. She is made of sterner stuff than that and oftentimes seems as though she's made of pure ice. Everything seems to roll off her and opposition only seems to make her _better._

"So, what's the plan?" Maria asks warily as they climb into a waiting limo. "The awards aren't until tomorrow night."

"Tonight we have dinner and a show. Steven and I have been working our way through all the Cirque du Soleil productions-"

"Not all of them," Steve says under his breath, thinking about _Zumanity_ and the fact that he will never, ever willingly set foot into that theater with his mother.

She continues on as if she hasn't heard him. "I've already reserved a ticket for you, Maria. I trust you've brought one other set of nice clothes?"

Maria nods, relaxing at the prospect of a press-free night. "Darcy dragged me out shopping before we left."

"Steven has a last-minute fitting at Hugo Boss before dinner tonight, so I thought we would accompany him and lend him our thoughts."

Steve laughs. "Ma, you always come to my fittings. There's no chance I'm going to pull a Don Cherry or anything, that was Wade!"

Ian brightens. "That was some of the best footage we ever filmed." Miles and Peter murmur in agreement. Wade, who'd been nominated for the Norris that year, had coordinated very nicely with the carpet. And, in true Wade Wilson fashion, had nearly incited a brawl in the press line.

"Indulge your mother, Steven." Sarah turns back to Maria. "And then tomorrow, you and I are spending the morning at the spa. I've also booked those, as well."

Maria blinks and Sarah can see that she's caught the younger woman off-guard. She already has the full story from Pepper: or, at least, as much of the full story as Pepper is willing to tell her. Mother dead, father completely absent from the picture. Sarah is absolutely guilty of mothering every single member of the Knights, and if anyone has been crying out for guidance and a bit of motherly care, it's Maria. And while she puts up a good façade – Sarah has eyes and she saw how uncomfortable she was during the Mom's and Dad's trips – Maria craves some sort of family and damned if Sarah's not determined to give that to her.

And if she knows her son at _all_ , he's of the same mind.

"What about-"

"The crew will join me while I do some NHL promotions," Steve cuts in smoothly. "Then they'll join us at lunch, and after that they'll probably come with you and Ma to the salon."

Maria turns and makes a face at Peter. "Do you guys have to? Shove cameras in my face while I'm being poked and prodded, I mean." Everyone is well aware of her reticence towards anything to do with the media, especially if it had nothing to do with her play or her work as an ambassador for women's hockey.

Peter shrugs, looking genuinely apologetic. "Sorry Hills, that's non-negotiable. Just be glad it's us and not an NHL crew. At least you know I'm not going to ask you any stupid questions while it's happening." Christine made it clear from the outset that while the Knights' media could be lighthearted and easygoing with the team, their tone should always be respectful and informed. This was especially important with their female player.

"The world wants to see the first woman in the NHL getting ready for the awards, especially when she's up the for the Calder," Miles adds. Fans and sports media alike have been eagle-eyed and borderline obsessive over the rookie points race, paying special attention to Maria and the Blades' Dick Grayson. The odds on the winner change daily.

She scowls, but reclines back against the seat. "Argh. Fine. But I'm not going to like any of it, I promise you."

"We won't ask you to give us a smile, don't worry."

"Good, because I'd probably punch the camera."

Ian flinches and covers the camera protectively. "Not the equipment! But you're welcome to punch Peter."

"Hey!" The two of them get into a shoving match and Sarah rolls her eyes fondly. Sometimes she could swear that they're still the same rambunctious teenagers they were when they first came to work for the Knights, but then again, being around a team of professional hockey players can sometimes lower one's mental age to the fifth grade. Thankfully, she's had ample practice at dealing with hockey players of all ages.

" _Boys_."

Ian and Peter immediately subside, shooting Sarah matching guilty looks. "Sorry, Mrs. Rogers," they chorus in unison. Miles snickers while Steve looks out the window, hiding a grin.

Maria looks suitably impressed. "I wish I could do that."

"Don't worry Hills, you're terrifying in your own way," Miles remarks blithely. "The entire team would expire with terror if you replicated…well, anything of Mrs. Rogers'. Meaning no disrespect at all, of course," he adds quickly with a sidelong glance.

Sarah smiles serenely. "None taken, Miles dear."

At the hotel, the group splits up into their adjoining suites – Sarah and Maria into one, and the boys into the other. Maria's eyes pop a little at the opulence. It's a far cry from the hotel rooms they stay in when they're on the road. The room overlooks the Strip, and has its own living and dining room, while each room has an ensuite bathroom. "This is…a bit much."

"It is, but I admit it's nice to indulge every once in a while."

Maria is drawn to the window, and the many glittering lights of the surrounding casinos. "Are you supposed to be my chaperone, Mrs. Rogers?"

"Please Maria, how many times have I told you to call me Sarah?" she scolds. "Do you have a room preference?"

"No." She's eyeing the couch; no doubt thinking even that would be a fine option. It's certainly deep enough, with cushions that don't look like they'd kill one's back.

"Then I will choose the one on the right," she decides. "And to answer your question, no, I'm not your chaperone, dear. You were no doubt informed that Steven and I have a tendency to make an event of the NHL Awards – it's one of the few trips we manage to take together. Pepper simply assumed it would be more convenient to separate us this way." She winks broadly. "It's also cheaper to pay for two suites rather than two suites and another room."

And that in and of itself is mind-boggling. Sarah is well aware that her son is a millionaire, but while he was growing up it was the most they could do to scrape together enough money to buy used hockey equipment. It's important to remember such humble beginnings, and Sarah certainly never allows him to spoil her too much. She refuses to move out of their tiny little Brooklyn apartment, though she did let him make upgrades and improvements. It's more than enough for her, and she has good friends and fond memories there that she wouldn't trade for all the money in the world.

Although she supposes that when he finally settles down she will probably uproot herself. After all, who will look after the children?

But that is still a long way off – or so she presumes.

She mulls over the explanation. "That makes sense," Maria says with a shrug, taking her luggage into the other bedroom. From the rustling noises, it sounds like she's unpacking.

Sarah lets out a peal of laughter as she does the same. "Maria, I am certainly not your guard dog. If you wish to gamble away your entire ELC I won't stop you, though I'd strongly caution against it. Nor will I stop you if you insist on going to some strip club. The ones oriented towards women are most entertaining."

Maria appears in the doorway, clutching a hangar. "Does Rog-Steve know that you went to a male strip club?"

"Of course he does, he went with me, as did James," Sarah replies blithely. It was certainly one of the most memorable nights of her life, and she's had a good many of those. "I believe Steven was blushing for the rest of the week."

"I can definitely see that." Maria grins. "I'd love to hear more of these stories. For chirping purposes, of course."

Sarah flashes her a conspiratorial smile in return. She really and truly does like this woman. "What kind of mother would I be if I didn't provide you with fodder for teasing my son? Though such stories do come with a price."

"Oh?"

"I would have you tell me about you in return, Maria. Do not fret about anything you do not wish to tell me," she says, watching the levity recede from her face. "But I admit, I'm curious. You're the only current Knight who is a graduate of Shattuck, as well as a product of the NCAA system. I feel you have many stories of your own." She watches her with an eagle eye, waiting to see if her words have any effect. She's gratified when Maria relaxes, sure that she's just avoided an interrogation, or a step towards subjects she would rather not discuss.

"Sure. What do you want to know?"

 

Maria looks mildly terrified by the sheer number of personnel that descend upon her at the salon. Sarah forces back a chuckle because she'd been utterly relaxed at the spa, but the Knights do employ their own massage therapists. "What color is your dress?" Dante, the makeup artist, asks curiously, looking her over from head to toe.

"Um, white," she murmurs, completely thrown off-guard. "What does that have to do with-"?

"Gold jewelry," Sarah supplies helpfully. She'd insisted on looking at her dress last night and she has to applaud Pepper and Darcy for their exquisite taste. The white dress is a simple sheath that bares Maria's arms and plunges deeply at the neckline. The jewelry is equally simple, a plain gold crescent collar and matching bracelet. "She must look elegant, you see."

"We understand, ma'am," the stylist assures her as they drag Maria off for shampooing.

Luckily for Maria, they are placed side-by-side while they're getting their hair cut. "Your hair is a beautiful color, but is in horrible shape," Jeanine says with dismay, sifting through the dry ends. "How long has it been since you've had it cut?"

"I'm a hockey player," she replies, exasperated. "I don't do much except tie it back and hack it off when it starts getting annoying."

"Well, we're definitely going to do some hacking," Jeanine mutters. Ian snickers behind the camera and Maria aims a killing look their way.

Sarah just laughs delightedly as her hairdresser applies toner to her hair. "Now Ann Marie, tell me about your children! The eldest must be in school, yes?" She's gone to the same salon in Vegas ever since Steven started attending the NHL Awards, and she's pleased to have a standing appointment with the same person.

The young woman dimples. "I'm so glad you remembered, Sarah! Yes, Donny went into kindergarten this year and he's enjoying it so much…"

It seems like they're in there for hours, but finally they make it back to their suite to change. Sarah is just fastening the earrings Joseph Rogers gave to her on their wedding day when Steve finally knocks on the door.

A grin spreads across his face as he takes Sarah in. "Ma, you look beautiful," he says, stepping in to press a kiss to her cheek. "I like the dress."

"You always do, Steven." After all, she likes to wear Knights' colors to any event. Tonight, her dress is navy blue, off-setting her newly toned hair very nicely. "And I see the suit came out perfectly."

It's elegant and simple, but perfectly fitted. Black, with a crisp white shirt and a navy patterned tie. He's still holding her arms, peering around her as he inquires, "Where's Maria?"

Then his eyes widen and Sarah hides a smile, knowing exactly what he sees. Maria's a vision in her white dress, her hair failing softly to her shoulders and her makeup expertly applied. Her eyes are dark and smoky, and they've done something to make her already beautiful bone structure even more pronounced. She's elegant and sharp, no softness to her at all despite the formal wear. It's fitting for her first NHL awards, Sarah thinks. Absolutely no one can look at her and think she's just some pretty face out there on the ice.

"Wow, Hills. You look-" Steve swallows and then rubs the back of his neck, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "You look fantastic."

"Yes well, we just need to make sure I don't break an ankle tonight," she replies wryly. She looks Steve over. "You clean up well, Rogers."

"And I suppose we just look like chopped liver?" Miles remarks, standing in the doorway. Sarah bustles over to straighten his tie, and then they head off.

Maria hides her discomfort well on the red carpet, deftly maneuvering around the questions like, "What's it like in the NHL, as a woman?" Or "Who are you wearing tonight?" In fact, she is asked a variety of questions more befitting a WAG than a player. Still, she handles it all with aplomb, responding with poise and carefully disguised cunning wit. Sarah might be on Steve's arm, but she keeps a sharp ear out as they navigate the press line just in case she has to swoop in.

Steve, of course, handles the press expertly, answering questions about their season as well as his new, boundary-shattering teammate. "I absolutely think she deserves the Calder," he tells ESPN. "Points aside, she's an incredible hockey player and our team is better with her on it."

At the end of the press line, Sarah notices Steve watching a group of players, a dark scowl threatening at the edges of his expression. She follows their hungry, speculative gazes to Maria and instantly understands. The woman they've seen as an enemy is suddenly desirable. It's making his protective instincts rear up and that will be no good for absolutely anyone.

So Sarah does what she does best and swans over to the players – a group from Florida that she vaguely recognizes. "Good evening, gentlemen," she greets them cordially.

To a man, they all blanch. "Hello, Mrs. Rogers."

"I see you've noticed our lovely Maria. Don't lie; I've seen you looking at her. All I will ask, gentlemen, is that you be respectful. If not…" She smiles thinly and they gulp. "Well, I suppose we should leave it at that. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Mrs. Rogers!" They chorus.

Sarah's smile turns genuine. "Good. Enjoy your evening."

Maria raises a quizzical brow as Sarah rejoins them. "What was that all about?"

"Simply reminding them of proper conduct," is the breezy reply.

Steve just grumbles under his breath.

The three of them are seated together for the awards ceremony. It is tedious, of course, but Sarah is glad to see there is less machismo and fewer sexist jokes than in pervious years. Perhaps the league actually is making an attempt to evolve.

She is the only one to witness how Maria's face falls for a fraction of a second when Dick Grayson's name is called for the Calder. She sees the brief cynicism too, the insidious thought _of course they'd never choose me._ It makes her want to break something because she should have been chosen. Maria has passed every single test set before her, has endured more in her rookie year than many of these men will ever see in their entire careers. The Calder should have been hers.

Evidently Steve agrees, though Sarah's not surprised. He's muttering darkly under his breath in Gaelic. "She should have won." Sarah pats his hand.

Dick Grayson is a gentleman enough to mention Maria in his acceptance speech – in fact, he's positively glowing with praise for her. It's an odd sentiment for someone who plays for the Blades.

After the ceremony, she stands and stretches. "And that is my cue to leave," she says, already relishing the thought of her changing into her pajamas and settling down with her book. "Steven, do be a dear and call me a cab."

"Sarah, you're not going to the after-party?"

Sarah shakes her head at the very thought. "Me, at the after party? Gracious, no. I'd sooner spend the night in the casino! No, darling, I'm going to retire with my book."

Maria's face turns wistful as they make their way outside. "That sounds nice. Do you think-"

"No, my dear. You will be missed. Steven rarely stays very long either, I daresay the two of you can slip out soon enough." She grins, thinking that, if anything, the after-party is an experience Maria should not miss.

* * *

 

The year Steve and Bucky are called up from the Brooklyn Commandos, they attend the Christmas family skate wearing presents Sarah gifted them the year they were drafted: thick knitted jumpers. These are no ordinary jumpers: these are done in beautifully complex stitches handed down from generation to generation in Sarah's family. Even back home on the Aran Islands, few take the time nowadays to knit these types of jumpers by hand, but Sarah takes pride in the ones she's made for her boys.

Only these are not done in un-dyed wool, as tradition dictates, but Knights' blue for Steve and Knights' red for Bucky.

The jumpers are exclaimed over by the other players and the members of staff, and Sarah is complimented for their beauty and intricacy. "Those would be so much nicer than the ugly Christmas sweaters they insist on wearing sometimes," Pepper tells her with approval.

The offhand comment gets Sarah's brain churning. Steven and James are no longer her only boys. The Knights – _all_ of them – are hers now. She wants them to have more than just the occasional home-cooked dinner during the year. She wants them to know that someone treasures, them, values them, and cares for them. She wants them to know it even when she's giving them a firm tongue-lashing over idiotic public displays or fumbles on the ice. She wants them to know that even if their real mothers are far away, there is someone right here in New York who treats them as her own.

So she knits. Every spare chance she has, she takes out her needles and yarn and works. On breaks at the hospital. On the subway. At home, with the windows open and New York humming all around her. No two jumpers are the same. She knits cables for safety, honeycombs for luck, and diamonds for success. The colors she uses are Knights' colors, navy blue and scarlet red and onyx black. But most of all, she breathes love into every stitch, love for these players because they are now a part of her family and that is a bond that can never be broken.

Still, she is only one woman and one woman alone cannot knit jumpers like these for an entire hockey team within a year, though she tries her damndest. By the time the next Christmas rolls around, Steven and James are wearing their jumpers once more, and Sarah has jumpers for Thor, Mike, Mack, and Logan. "I will get to the rest of you eventually," she promises the rest of the team.

Mike in particular is overcome by the gift. He waits until Sarah is by herself to thank her, running wondering fingers over the black jumper he is now proudly wearing. "Thank you," he whispers, tears standing bright in his eyes. "You don't know what this means to me. My mom-" He catches himself, shakes his head, and starts again. "My mom is sick and we don't know how long she has."

Sarah cannot help herself – she reaches up and folds him into her embrace, feeling the way he shakes against her like a leaf in a storm. "I do not wish to replace your mother, for she holds her own place in your heart," she tells him. "But if you need someone to do what she does, to be as she is whilst you're here, all you need to do is ask."

His tears run hot against her shoulder, and she rocks him as she used to with Steven, humming Irish lullabies.

The giving of jumpers becomes a Knights' tradition, one that is eagerly awaited by rookies who are called up or those who are newly traded or signed to the team. When they receive the jumper, they instantly put it on because it is a mark of acceptance, a symbol that they're now part of the family. Part of Sarah's family.

When Clint is traded to the Knights and receives his jumper, he too has to blink back tears. "Thank you, ma'am," he mumbles when he hugs Sarah. He's tentative, folding his arms around her like she's made of glass.

"You're part of my family now, Clinton Francis Barton," Sarah tells him, squeezing him tight and meaning every single word.

He starts calling her "Ma," not long after that.

She makes them for the girls too, of course. Maria stares at the navy blue jumper for a long moment before she pulls it over her blouse. For once, she doesn't quite know what to say. "I've never had something like this," she says finally. "It's exquisite. I'll cherish it forever. Thank you, Mrs. Rogers."

Natasha gives her a hug so tight it makes her bones creak.

It gives Sarah joy to see her players flying around the rink in the jumpers she's made with her own hands. They take a new picture every year and she always places it in a frame next to her favorite chair in the living room. She also keeps one in her wallet so that she can take it out to brag to her friends at work. And with the drafting of Maria and Natasha, she also has her girls to brag about, not just her boys.

The team also takes to wearing her jumpers during the team-only Christmas parties – usually because they're at Steve's place, and usually because Sarah herself is in attendance. Sarah insists on decorating the flat from top to bottom: lights, tinsel, cranberry and popcorn strings, etc. She also insists on making a stewpot of mulled wine with her own special blend of spices, trays upon trays of mince pies, and Christmas pudding, which the boys always delight in setting on fire. During his rookie year, Johnny Storm had been a little overenthusiastic setting it on fire and ended up singeing his eyebrows.

Sarah wanders amongst the sea of black, red, and blue, making sure everyone's glasses are topped up and bellies are full – "You needn't worry I'd run out of mince pies," she tells Ben as she stacks pies on his plate. "You know I always make more than enough for my team."

They always break their diet plans for her mince pies and Christmas pudding, and it's always amusing to see who manages to eat the most and gets yelled at by Carol at their next conditioning session. Sarah, of course, sneaks pies to the rest of the staff and the team is none the wiser, except for Steve, who usually ends up helping her prepare the mince.

Over on the couch, Maria and Natasha are laughing over old photos of Steve and Bucky when they were rookies. "Does that sweater light up?" Natasha asks, aghast.

"These jumpers are definitely an improvement," Maria says, catching Sarah's eye and grinning.

Bucky shrugs. "As far as rookie pranks go, it wasn't so bad."

Sarah remembers hearing of the situation in question. The team had flown out to Pittsburgh for their last game before Christmas, and the older members of the team had stolen Steve, Thor, and Bucky's shirts and suit jackets, forcing them to go to Consol with gaudy, eye-searing Christmas sweaters on top of their suit pants. The photos had made the front page of the sports section and they had all been quite proud, ugly sweaters aside. Every once in a while the same prank resurrects itself, though she's glad to see the women haven't been a victim of it. Maria assures her that she and Natasha are very vigilant with their luggage and their room keys when they're on the road, and that the men are quite good about respecting that particular boundary, even if they take great pride in their pranks.

Sam commandeers the piano in the corner and plays a round of Christmas carols, as is tradition. Most of the team are not particularly good at singing, but their enthusiasm makes up for their lack of skill. The crowning achievement is their rendition of "The Twelve Days of Christmas," complete with dance moves courtesy of Trip.

"Wait, 'six geese a-laying' just looks like we're pooping, Trip," Bobby protests.

"Or trying to do some really weird twerking," Johnny cackles. His cheeks are ruddy, which means he's probably had a little too much of the mulled wine, but it's not like anyone's going to call him out on it. Sarah drops another two mince pies on his plate, anyway.

Trip just points a stern finger in their direction. "Stop complaining, or we're going to be here all night singing this song. Now, 'seven swans a-swimming' looks like this…"

Somehow, they manage to get through the entire song without dissolving into giggles. Sarah sees several cell phones recording which means something's going to appear on social media later, courtesy of Darcy.

Bucky is being a menace, popping up all over the room with mistletoe that he co-opted from the doorway earlier. He's about as subtle as a lightning storm because it's obvious he intends to corner Natasha with the stuff sooner rather than later.

Of course, Natasha will only be caught if she wants to be. But Sarah has seen the way she interacts with James. The two of them are kindred spirits and she suspects something is going to happen between the two of them sooner rather than later.

A hush falls over the group, then the giggling begins. Sarah glances over to where Steve is standing at the piano with Maria at his side. Bucky is gleefully dangling the sprig of mistletoe over their heads, beaming as though he's made the winning shot in a shootout. Steve is the same shade of dull burgundy as the mulled wine.

Maria doesn't appear to possess the ability to blush, but the look she levels at James says she's going to beat him to death with one of his own limbs. James gulps but stands his ground, wiggling the innocuous plant about. "It _is_ tradition, Hills. Are you really going to disappoint the spirits of Christmas?"

"Doesn't he mean the ghosts of Christmas?" Thor asks Remy.

"Wrong Christmas story, Thor," Remy replies, taking a long sip of mulled wine.

Everyone's eyes are riveted on the scene in front of them because while the team likes to _act_ oblivious, they really aren't. Everyone has been privy to the draw between Steven and Maria from the beginning, a draw that has only gotten stronger since the Knights emerged victorious in the Stanley Cup finals. Since then it's been like the movement of planets, with the two of them constantly circling around each other, their orbits moving closer and closer together.

Sarah is rather impatient about the whole thing, but then again, she's been privy to this from the start.

Finally, Maria sighs. "Fine. Anything to avoid the wrath of the Christmas spirits." She rises to the tips of her toes to press her lips to the corner of Steve's mouth.

The two of them freeze at the contact, eyes open and staring at one another. Steve's hand comes up, hovering just above the small of her back but never alighting. They seem to be stuck in the moment and no one can intrude, not even the team. They are all holding their breath, anxious to see what happens.

Inexplicably, Maria smiles and breaks away. Then she turns to Bucky, one eyebrow raised. "Are you satisfied?" she asks mildly.

"Sadly, no," he retorts, glaring at the two of them. "What kind of mistletoe kiss was _that_?" Even the mistletoe dangling from his fingers looks dejected with the situation at hand.

"Disgraceful," Clint adds.

"You call that a kiss?" Logan scoffs.

"Come on, Steven, kiss the woman!" Thor roars from the couch.

Natasha rolls her eyes. "What James and the others mean is that they were expecting something a bit more like _this_." And she waltzes up to Bucky, grabs his sweater with both of her hands, and yanks him down for a kiss one is more likely to see in romantic comedies than at a Christmas party. James' arms flail wildly for a moment, dropping the mistletoe to the floor, before he completely gets with the program. He wraps his arms around Natasha and bends her back in a full movie star kiss and it is positively filthy.

Sarah beams.

The team _erupts_. Thor is cheering. Logan and Clint are baying like hounds at the ceiling. Trip and Peter are doing a reel around the piano, and Sam is playing sort of romantic theme – something from _Swan Lake?_

In the ensuing chaos, Sarah sees Maria raise her eyebrows at Steven, then jerk her head out towards the balcony. Steve raises an eyebrow inquisitively, then grins and waves her ahead. He makes his way towards the kitchen on the pretense of getting more mulled wine.

Sarah sends him a wordless glance as he passes by her and he just shakes his head, the redness only now just starting to recede from his cheeks. The team is none the wiser.

She turns back to the team, still cheering at Bucky and Natasha, who have only now just come up for air. Natasha looks extremely satisfied, though her cheeks now match her hair. Bucky's perfect hairdo is mussed, likely from Natasha's hands running through it. His smile outshines the lights on the Christmas tree.

It's a good year, Sarah decides.

* * *

 

Sarah will always be proud of her son no matter what he does. She is, after all, his _mother_. She has cheered for him in the bad times, and there were plenty of bad times when he and James were first called up to the Knights. It took them years to get to the point where they were contenders in the league. Since then, she has seen the Knights shoot to the top of the division and the conference, and win a Stanley Cup. She has cheered for him at Worlds and gone with him to each and every All-Star game.

Still, there is nothing quite like the Olympics.

The Olympics are held in Helsinki that year, and she knows just how much both the US men and women's teams have trained. The US men have been up and down in the medal race, never quite reaching the top, whilst the US women have been battling for gold with Canada ever since Nagano.

She's always been invested with USA hockey, but the stakes are even higher now that Steve and Maria have been named alternate captains for their teams. She thinks Steve should have been captain over Clark Kent, but perhaps she is biased.

In any case, Helsinki is a lovely city, sitting out overlooking the Gulf of Finland. The winter weather has been kind, keeping the area cold and bright and covered with snow. People are nearly able to ice skate right from the harbor to the nearby islands in the gulf. She loves the low, squat pastel colored buildings with their white and gold trimmings, and has spent many an hour wandering through the University of Helsinki campus.

When the Opening Ceremonies begin, she thinks her heart is going explode when she sees Team USA come out in their red and blue jackets and white trousers. It is the culmination of a dream. Indeed, it had been Joseph Rogers' dream to see his son play for Team USA in any capacity, but as part of the hockey team? It is beyond anything he could have ever imagined.

Sarah clutches the locket he gave her, her eyes frantically searching for Steve amongst the crowd of madly waving athletes. "I wish you were here to see this, my love," she whispers to the wind. She smiles when it ruffles her hair. He's here, somewhere.

Both teams come charging out of the gate in the group stage. Luckily for Sarah, there are no conflicts in the schedule between the US men's and women's games, a plan that makes it easy for the athletes to go and cheer each other on. Sarah proudly wears her Team USA gear and waves the stars and stripes. The US women's team has a hard group with Canada, Russia, and Finland, but they get through nonetheless. Maria takes several hat tricks during the tournament, making the goals seem easy. She plays very well with Izzy Hartley and Jessica Jones on her wing, and Jean Grey is one of the best female goaltenders to come out of the USA since Peggy Carter. Sarah has her eye on Sharon Carter, Peggy's niece. She's most pleased that the Knights have drafted her and are obviously grooming her to take Mike's place once he retires.

The men don't have such an easy time with Russia, Switzerland, and the Czech Republic either, but they still manage to battle through. It's certainly interesting to see Steve centering the second line with Dick Grayson and Barry Allen, but Sarah supposes she's seen stranger things. The only thing that matters is that it works and they're winning.

Between practices and games there's little time to see any of the Knights when they're playing for their respective teams, but it's more than enough to cheer for them at the stands. Besides, she has more than enough company in the form of various family members of the team. Years of Mom's Trips and other team family events mean that she's become quite close with the mothers who don't live in the New York area. Ruth Barnes doesn't count, of course – they've been fast friends as long as their sons have been friends.

Ruth and Doreen Wilson have been her tourist buddies in Helsinki. They've even managed to take the ferry over to Talinn, so they can all proudly say that they've been to Finland and Estonia. It's unfortunate that the Olympics takes place during the season, unlike Worlds, otherwise she would be temped to suggest a family trip through all the Nordic countries.

However, she's making sure to stop in Ireland on the way back to New York. She hasn't been back in several years and there are times when she misses the sea cliffs of home, the smell of the peat and the sound of music on the wind. Steve had taken her home in the off-season during his first year with the Knights. They'd hired a car and driven all over the country, staying in cozy little bed and breakfasts, seeing as many sights as possible, and of course eating all the Irish home cooking they could get. Sarah was fairly certain she'd drunk more than her weight in tea each day, and had packed boxes upon boxes to take home so she could brew a proper cuppa.

They had also spent an entire week on the Aran Islands with their family, who had thrown a grand _ceilidh_ to welcome them home.

She tears her mind away from thoughts of home and comes back to the present. Both teams are in the semi-finals now – the games that will determine whether or not they will move on to the gold medal round. The men are facing Sweden, whilst the women are facing Finland.

The men win against Sweden in a shootout. Sarah thinks she will faint every single time Steve and Bucky go out on the ice to face the Swedish goaltender (an old friend of Thor's named Heimdall), but they both manage to make shots that count towards their win.

The women also take the win against Finland in overtime. Maria makes the game-winning play, scooping up a loose puck after Akela forces a turnover in the United States' defensive zone. She makes the most beautiful stretch pass up the ice to Jessica, who buries it top shelf.

It's official. Both teams are going to the gold medal round, and both teams are facing down Canada.

Sarah spares enough time to track the bronze medal round – the Russian women manage to scoop up the bronze medal, unfortunately knocking the Finnish women out of medal contention. The same thing happens to the Finnish men, who fall to Sweden. Sarah is happy to see that at least Natasha and Thor have medals to take home.

Both games are high intensity and very, very fast and vicious. The rivalry for both the men and women's teams is so intense it's almost palpable, especially in the case of the women. The US has lost gold to Canada every year since Nagano. There is plenty of physical contact during the women's game, never mind the rules, and there are times when the teams nearly come to blows. Maria, Sarah's amused to note, remains above all the fighting and often has to pull her wingers out of scrums.

Both games go into overtime and both Steven and Maria are absolutely the key players. They play like the hounds from hell are on their heels. What happens next is a foregone conclusion, and Team USA wins gold – twice.

The feeling during the medal ceremonies is indescribable. She clutches her hands to her chest and tears stream down her face as all around her, American flags wave. She raises her voice in song, watching the gold wink on their chests.

She is so, so very proud.

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the marvelous Kavi Leighanna, who is the worst kind of enabler when it comes to this universe. Luckily, she bribes me with lots of AUs. This time, she requested Sarah Rogers being a mama bear when it comes to the team and well...Sarah just kind of took over. Oh, and she also asked for hockeyverse Christmas shenanigans.
> 
> I really want one of Sarah's jumpers.


End file.
